


Say it in Writing

by cutelittlekitty



Category: Gravitation
Genre: M/M, at least as sweet as anything with yuki in it can be, sweet comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 00:05:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14320032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutelittlekitty/pseuds/cutelittlekitty
Summary: Yuki’s always so cold to Shuichi.  The singer is used to it, or so he thinks until Yuki’s latest novel dominates so much of his time that Shu begins to wonder if the writer even cares if he’s around.





	Say it in Writing

**Author's Note:**

> another old work of mine. I've proofread it a hundred times, but still found a typo and a few grammatical mistakes when rereading before posting. hopefully it's good now :D

Shuichi paused outside the door to the apartment, the cool metal of his key pressed against his hand. _His_ key. He’d been living with Yuki here for over a year now and sometimes it just struck him as amazing that the novelist hadn’t thrown him out on his ear yet. Well, true, Yuki had tried that several times, but Shuichi just couldn’t stay away. Those cold amber eyes kept drawing him back. He could never explain exactly why he loved Yuki, not even to himself. But that didn’t make his love for the novelist any less. And every once in a while, those cold eyes would soften, causing Shuichi’s heart to melt all over again.

The pink haired singer shivered in pleasure at the memory of those few, tender gazes from his lover, then hurriedly shoved the key into the lock and turned it, calling out as he opened the door. “Yuuuukiiiiii, tadaimaaaaa!” He bounded happily inside, pushing the door shut a little too hastily behind him. Slim shoulders winced slightly as the door slammed, echoing through the apartment. He could almost hear his lover’s sigh of frustration at the interruption. Yuki would be in his office, working on his book, as he had been almost nonstop for the past month. Shuichi slipped off his shoes, barely remembering to shove his socked feet into his slippers before dashing back to the office.

“Yuuukii, are you home?” he asked as he knocked on the office door. Not waiting for an answer, he turned the knob and, finding the door unlocked, headed inside. The novelist was in his chair at his desk, his fingers dancing away over his keyboard as though he hadn’t just been interrupted by a pink-haired bundle of energy. Shuichi moved up behind him and slid his slender arms around his lover’s shoulders, hugging him lightly and kissing him on the cheek before glancing at the screen. “How’s the novel coming?” he asked, his voice much softer now. The fact that he hadn’t been pushed away yet meant Yuki was immersed in what he was writing.

“Mmm...” the novelist mumbled, his fingers never faltering over the keys. Shuichi looked at Yuki curiously. Not only had he _not_ been pushed away, Yuki hadn’t even called him a brat. It had been like this for several days. The novel must have been nearing completion; that was always when he was most intent on his writing.

The singer tried unsuccessfully to hide his sigh, then kissed Yuki’s temple lightly. “You will take a break to eat, right?” he asked softly.

“Mmm...” came another mumbled reply as the novelist’s fingers paused on the keyboard. Yuki leaned forward a bit and studied the screen intently for a few seconds then deleted the sentence he’d just written. His fingers began tapping over the keys again.

“I’ll order dinner.” Shuichi said as his arms slid from around Yuki’s shoulders. He turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him and blinking away the moistness in his eyes that must have been caused by the stale smell of cigarette smoke that hung in his lover’s office. There really wasn’t anything to be worried about. Yuki got like this often. Well, usually not this intensely. Usually, even when he was deep into his writing, he still had time to at least call Shuichi a brat and tell him to get out. But about a month ago the writer had started working on a new novel and since then they’d barely spoken.

The singer put his worries over the recent lack of intimacy to the back of his mind, picked up the phone and ordered dinner. He’d rather cook something for Yuki himself, but he wanted the writer to actually _eat something_ so that left out anything he might cook. No matter how much he tried, his skills just hadn’t improved in that area. 

Making his way to the living room, Shuichi flopped down on the couch and picked up the remote, turning on the tv and flipping through the channels idly for something to keep him occupied until dinner arrived. But the television didn’t hold his attention. His thoughts drifted back to his lover as he wondered if, when Yuki was done with this novel, things would go back to how they had been, with the cold novelist pushing him away at every turn but still coming to bed nearly every night to prove the singer’s presence wasn’t entirely unwanted. Shuichi shivered, blushing at thoughts of things they had done in that bed... and on this couch... and on the floor... and that time on the kitchen table... He blinked, wondering why his eyes were watering when there was no smoke here to bother them. It had only been a month since Yuki had become so obsessed with his writing, and they’d had sex three weeks ago... There was no reason for him to be worried, right? He couldn’t let himself dwell on these kinds of things. He had to stay optimistic, energetic, and persistent. After all, wasn’t that what Yuki loved about him? Wasn’t that the only thing he had to offer his lover that the writer wouldn’t get from anyone else? But did the blonde love him for that? He still really wasn’t sure if Yuki even loved him at all. He had to at least like him to be willing to put up with him though, right? But ‘putting up with’ and ‘loving’ were two different things. The sound of the door speaker’s buzz pulled the singer from his thoughts with a jump. 

After paying the delivery boy Shuichi went to the kitchen and put half the food on a plate for Yuki. He knew that, left to his own, the novelist would never take a break to get food. Bringing him food was just a little thing, but it made the pink-haired boy happy to do things for his lover, especially things the amber-eyed man wouldn’t do for himself. Shuichi grabbed the plate and took it to Yuki’s office, not bothering to knock as he slipped into the room. He set the plate on the desk where it was visible to the writer but not in his way, then slid his arms around the novelist’s shoulders, hugging him lightly and kissing his cheek. 

“Yuki, dinner” he said quietly, his warm breath washing over his lover’s ear. There was no break in the rhythmic clicking that came from the keyboard.

“Mmm...” the novelist replied, barely acknowledging his lover’s presence, though the small shiver that ran through him at the warm breath on his ear meant he wasn’t completely oblivious. “Thanks” he added, his attention never leaving the computer.

“You’ll eat, right?” the singer asked, knowing that just putting the food there was no guarantee it would be eaten.

“Mmm...”

“Not mmm, Yuki, answer me. Promise me you’ll eat. You’ve lost weight; I’m worried about you.”

The writer sighed, his fingers finally pausing over the keys. He turned his head to look at Shuichi, brushing his lips lightly over his lover’s, an action which sent an excited spark through the singer’s body. “I promise I’ll eat, now let me get back to work, k?” he said quietly.

Shuichi saw himself reflected in his lover’s eyes for the first time in weeks and his features burst into a happy grin. “Ok!” he responded happily, his arms tightening around Yuki and their lips brushing together again before he released his hold on his lover and headed toward the door. He paused in the doorway, turning and finding amber eyes watching him, their usual coldness absent for the moment. “Yuki... will you... come to bed tonight?”

“... Not tonight. Soon. But I need to finish this.” The cold wall that kept his emotions from showing in his eyes was back.

Shuichi felt his heart sink a little and the smile began to fade from his face, but he stopped it, forcing the smile even wider. “Ok, but when your book’s done I’m not letting you out of bed for a week!” he replied, turning again to leave.

“A week?” the novelist called toward Shuichi’s back. “You can’t even last five minutes, what do you expect to be doing for a week, brat?”

The singer stopped short at the sound of the word ‘brat’, turning to stick his tongue out at his lover. “You’ll just have to hurry and finish that book so you can find out!” he retorted before retreating the rest of the way to the hallway and closing the door behind him. There was a quiet chuckle from inside the office as the sounds of typing resumed. Shuichi sighed, then went back to the kitchen to eat his own dinner before showering and crawling into bed. As he drifted off to sleep, the singer wondered if Yuki even remembered he was leaving tomorrow to go on a two week video shoot in various locations.

*****  
“Yuuuuukiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!” Shuichi called, racing into the apartment full throttle. The writer stood up from the sofa and put his hand out, stopping the singer’s charge by the forehead. Shuichi continued running in place, his arms flailing as he tried to reach his lover, to throw himself into the embrace he hadn’t felt in well over a month. “Yuki, that’s so cold. We haven’t seen each other in forever, don’t I at least get a hug?” he pouted. 

“I’m on my way out” the blonde replied, shoving something against Shuichi’s chest and grabbing an overnight bag from beside the couch before heading for the door.

“What?!? Wait, I just got home!” the singer cried, reflexively grabbing the package that had been thrust against his chest then tossing it on the sofa as he dove for his lover. “Noooo, where are you going? When are you coming back? Why do you have a bag packed? Didn’t you miss me at all??? Pleeeeease, don’t leave me!!!!” he cried, clasping a death grip around the blonde’s waist from behind.

“None of your damn business. I’ll be back in 5 days so get off me, brat” the writer responded coldly, continuing toward the door and dragging Shuichi behind him.

“But... you finished your book and I’m finally done with the shoots and I have the next three days off and I wanna spend them with you and what am I supposed to do if you’re not here???” Shu whined.

Turning to glare down at the pink-haired leech, Yuki pried the arms from around his waist and punted his lover across the room where he landed on the couch with a thud. It wasn’t where he’d been aiming but whatever, it worked. “Read” he called back before closing the door behind him.

As the door thunked closed streams of tears began waterfalling from the singer’s eyes. “Yuuukiiii no baaakaaaaaaa!” he cried toward the closed door. “Read? As if! He knows I don’t read” he complained as he rubbed his sore tailbone, which had landed on something hard. “Huh? What’s this?” he wondered, pulling the brown paper wrapped package from under him. It was the thing Yuki had shoved into his chest on his way out. He hastily ripped open the wrapping and examined the object. “The Fro... zen He... a... rt. A book? Whyyyyyy??? He knows I hate reading!!” the pink-haired boy complained. The cover was plain black with white lettering and the binding was tied together with string rather than glued. It didn’t look like a store-bought copy. Curious, he opened it and read the cover page. The Frozen Heart, by... “Yuki! This must be the book he was working on!” he informed the air. “Well... I guess I could try to read a little...” he conceded, turning to the first page. 

“It was late evening as the lit... liter... literature professor strolled through the park, a cool September breeze chilling his face and easing the ten... tension from his long day of teaching.” Shuichi read out loud, “Literature? I should know that word... It means... umm... errr.... Dictionary, dictionary, where’s a dictionary?” He was sure he’d used his old high school dictionary not too long ago... Oh, right. It was holding up a table leg in his room... back at his parent’s house. “Darn. Oh, right, Yuki must have one! I’m sure he won’t mind if I borrow it...” he reasoned, going to the blonde’s office and trying the knob. It was unlocked. “Excuse the intrusion” he called out, even though he knew the room was empty. There were shelves of books lining the room and Shuichi checked through every one, sure there must be a dictionary among them. But there wasn’t. “Darn it! But even the best writer has to use a dictionary sometimes, don’t they? Maybe he has one on his computer?” he wondered aloud, glancing at the machine and pondering how many times Yuki would kill him for touching it. But as it turned out, that wouldn’t be necessary. There was the dictionary on the desk, right next to the computer. “Found it!” he exclaimed happily, picking up the tome and flipping through the pages. “Labor.... Liberal... Light... Limb... Literal... Literature: all writings in prose or verse, esp. those of an imaginative or critical character, without regard to their excellence; often distinguished from scientific writing, news reporting, etc. Prose? Verse? Hmm... I think it just means writing. Sheesh, why didn’t he just say writing professor? Whatever” he complained, replacing the dictionary on the desk. He turned to leave then stopped, picked the dictionary back up, and headed back to the living room. Settling back on the sofa, dictionary in his lap, he picked up Yuki’s book and began reading again.

“The park was usually quiet and peaceful this time of night, but that day was appre... apparently an exe.... exception, because the soli... solitude was broken by a young man with bright purple hair who was speaking loudly to no one in par... particular. ‘No, you can’t!’ the boy said in a high pitched voice, then jumped opposi... opposite from where he’d stood, turning to face where he’d just been. ‘I must!’ he excla... exclaimed in a deeper voice, then jumped back to the other side. ‘But if you go to war, who will care for the farm?’ came the high voice again. ‘I’m sorry, my darling, you’ll have to carry on without me a bit’ the deep voice replied as the boy jumped to the other side again, then back. ‘I’ll count the moments you’re away.’ It was a... apparent the boy was acting out a scene from a play.” Geeze, there were too many big words. How did Yuki expect him to read this? There was no way he’d get through it. Just as he was giving up and closing the book, a sentence caught his eye and he stopped, reading it aloud. “What the hell, you call that a play? An elementary schooler could write better.” That line sounded very familiar. He began reading in earnest, guessing the meanings of some words by how they were used, vaguely recalling meanings of others, and looking up the ones he couldn’t fathom. While the story was about a cold, college writing teacher and a purple-haired, energetic, aspiring playwright/actor, Shuichi was sure that it was really about him and Yuki. For the next several days, he barely moved as he read and reread the book.

*****

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” a familiar, cold voice asked from the doorway.

The singer looked up from the book, staring at his lover through teary eyes. “I called in. Yuki, you’re home?”

“...Of course I am. I’m standing here aren’t I? Geeze, I know you’re slow, but it’s been five days, haven’t you finished reading that book yet?” he spat as he closed the door, walked down the hall, deposited his bag inside the bedroom, then returned to the living room to glare at his lover.

“I’m on the third time through” Shuichi replied, closing the book tenderly and laying it on the table. The writer’s surprise was hastily hidden by the return of his usual glare. “Yuki.....” the pink-haired boy said quietly, “I love you too!!!!!!!” he added, his usual energy suddenly making an appearance. He threw himself into his lover’s arms... or would have, except the blonde sidestepped and Shuichi landed face-first into the wall.

“Where’d that come from?”

“That book.... it’s about us, isn’t it?” the singer asked, pulling himself out of the wall and turning to look at the writer.

“It’s not.” Yuki replied.

“It is! That’s how you really feel about me, isn’t it?” 

“It’s not” the blonde insisted.

“It is! I know it is!” 

“Shut up.”

“What, you can say it on paper but you can’t admit it to my face?”

“I said shut up.”

Shuichi stamped his foot and pouted. “Fine. So where have you been for the past five days?”

“Book signing.”

“Wow, it’s out already?!? I can’t wait to tell everyone to—“

“Not that book. The signing was for Winter Rose.”

“Oh. So when’s Frozen Heart coming out?” the singer asked.

“It’s not.”

“What? What do you mean it’s not?”

“It’s not being published. The company said it’s too unrealistic and readers wouldn’t identify with it.”

“No way! Of course it’s realistic. It’s US!! It’s our story!!”

“I told you, it’s not. It’s fiction. And it’s not being published.”

“It Has to be. I know, I’ll pay for the publishing myself! That way—“

“Shut up! It’s not being published and that’s final” Yuki yelled, then his expression softened as Shuichi’s face fell. He lit up a cigarette then reached out and awkwardly patted the pink-haired boy’s head. “Look. It’s fine if you’re the only one who reads it, ok?”

“Yuki....” the singer said, tears waterfalling down his face. “I love you so much!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms tightly around his lover, who choked on the smoke he’d been exhaling.

“Geeze, brat, I’m trying to breathe here. Speaking of which, when’s the last time you took a shower? You stink.”

“Errm..... I’ve been kind of preoccupied...”

“Mmhmm. Shower. Now.”

“But—“

“No buts. I’m not spending a week in bed with someone who smells like last week’s garbage” the blonde interrupted.

“A week?”

“Did you forget?” Yuki asked, dragging Shuichi toward the bathroom by his collar. “ ‘When your book’s done I’m not letting you out of bed for a week!’ I’m holding you to that promise.”

The singer gulped. He loved Yuki, but the cold blonde was a very vigorous lover. He wasn’t sure his ass would survive a week. “Yuki... that book... it really is how you feel, isn’t it?”

“... I wrote it. I’m not saying it out loud.”

“But it’s how you feel?”

“...Yes.”

“Then you don’t have to say it. I love you, Yuki! Can we shower together?”

“...Ok.” They were in for a long, pleasant (and sore) week.


End file.
